Corvein's Finest
by Noah Deer
Summary: The first short story in a planned arc, a Guard story, the actions of the Corvein 33rd and the horrors they find on an seeminly empty agri-world. My first story, feedback welcomed


1 Empty Threat

Sergeant Halus heard the gravel crunch underfoot as he moved his men down another abandoned road. He had lost all desire to act with stealth or regard to concealment, his tall slender frame was visible to any man watching from any of the Habs on this street. The tension in the air was unnerving; by all rights this city should be teeming with traders and labourers, the Agri-wives and Barter/Slavers. Instead a dozen men advanced down a wide road, with but a few empty civilian vehicles presenting themselves to his view. He scanned ahead with his rifle, picking out doorways, examining the empty transporters and in general feeling so very cautious. His men were the tip of the spearing advance of the Corvein 33rd Urban Pacification Regiment. Their specialism was in holding and securing large settlements like this city. Not for the first time Halus wished this was not so, some other Throne forsaken men could do this job for all he cared, the planet fall was fine, the initial examination of the empty PDF barracks a click south of the city was tense, but here, with so much wrong in this city, his instincts screamed to him of danger ahead. At the end of the road he stopped, to relay his completion of task via the coms officer.

"Unit 1, this is Unit 4, platoon 2, we have a confirmation on orders, street 1vq is held, nada on Bugs or Civvies, holding for support or further orders, clear"

"This is Tactica, message received, hold for mechanised infantry advance, we are moving to Field brief 2, over".

A smile played on the lips of Halus, as he contemplated the news. Field brief 1 had been agonisingly slow, a steady advance through the suburbs of the city of Tithus. Each street had to be cleared by an advancing squad, before each Hab was individually checked. This had taken four days so far, four days with no sign of life, foreign or native. This was what was creating such a negative effect on moral, like a weight on a sheet. This city should be a home to over three million souls. Yet not one had been found in several square miles. A week, standard, before a fragment of Hive fleet Sepal had been engaged over this planet. All four Feeder-class ships were immolated, but several large fragments made landfall before this. It was considered unknown if this was due to battle damage or intent, but after impact on the city there was no communication. There were several proposed theories such as damage to coms networks, atmospheric interference or possible invasion from this possible planet seeding. Halus had considered the third option most likely since spending some time planet side, yet there were no bodies, no 'Nids. The occasional blood stain was unnerving enough, but the rumors that persisted were worse, a kind of brain controlling leech, a gas released which turned all sufferers to putrid dust, a mass exodus to escape what came out. It was hard to suppress these thought when he felt them himself.

He felt somewhat relieved however, progress would change. Field brief 2 was different, as it was a full speed advance to the crash site, splitting the force into three, to follow the three main routes to the city centre, with no caution to possible hidden foes. This sounded promising, a full pitched battle with what ever they faced, rather than put it off, enlarging fears. He was not a newcomer to danger, he served his mandatory three national terms in the Corvein PDF, was considered in the top ten percent, and thus he was enlisted to become full guard.

It took three hours for the main body of the regiment to pass Halus, he joined the vanguard to advance at pace, and to maintain a defensive withdrawal line.

"Feeling fucking freaked out yet?" he muttered to his crony, Paltin

The larger man retorted with his usual apathetic, high pitched tones "Always, since I was a boy… this place just makes it all the worse. Throne above isnt this is just a cheery town? Think the Brain slug shit is true?"

"Hah, you gullible whoreson, there is nothing like that to be concerned about! You would have little to lose if it was true!"

With a flex of his arm, Halus spread the men further across the road, there was little chance of an attack yet there was no need to let standards fall. His earpiece was buzzing, and he only paid it half of his attention, that is until a few words buzzed up which flagged his interest. From several sources he could hear an agitated demand to confirm sighting. He sniggered to himself "Pried must be having fun".

Two point three kilometres to the north west of Halus, Colonel Pried was attempting to receive confirmation of enemy sighting. His Chimera trundled forward, and within a few minutes reached the halted fore front of the regiment. Lieutenant Fawst saluted the officer, before Pried admonished him, hurrying Fawst to lead him to the front line. The men scurried forward, reaching cover in the form of sandbags and flacboards hastily set up since the advance halted. Pried glanced across the open square he found himself in, temporarily secured facing the opposite entrance, a testament to the architects, the street beyond seemed to be of a higher quality, built by members of the upper castes.

"What visual confirmation did you receive?" demanded Pried

"What was observed was non-human movement, the driver and commander of 'Grul's Bane' saw a multi-limbed creature. They halted advance, informed command, you sir."

"Where is the damned thing now? How many were there? What size?"

Fawst reddened under scrutiny "They had little chance to observe, I was sent a short-freq hail, and I considered the implication of contact enough to halt for further orders. I used the time it would take for your consideration of developments to anticipate a defensive line. The Chimera transporting defensive materials was unloaded to form barriers"

Pried glanced across at his men, a few dozen crowded in any available cover, several surrounding 'Grul's Bane'. That particular Leman Russ had been baptised in the campaign against an Ork invasion force against their home planet. The invasion had been rebuked and Grul himself was wounded mortally by the Leman Russ, his body torn by autofire, before being ground under its tracks. That was the first of many actions involving Bane, and its sister tank 'Fury Divine'. Sudden movement jarred Pried's thoughts, reminiscence forgotten as three figure scurried towards the line of men. He removed a rifle from the unresisting hands of Fawst and peered down its scope.

The crosshair settled on a reptilian head, its skin dull beige, and its scales bright red but with darker mottling. He could see its mouth open, drool pooling from its vicious fangs, talons extending on all four of its arms. He had no idea what particular form of evil this creature was, or the two with it, but Pried knew only that his duty was to erase it. He returned the rifle, and barked his orders in a clear and concise manner; "Front seven, aim". The seven men on or around the hull of 'Bane' aimed their las-weapons at the horrors, faces set in masks of disgust and hate. "Fire one round".

Seven bright, clear beams of light hit the three figures. The Leftmost figure buckled as three shots hit it, one scything through a leg, tearing it off at the knee, on round punching into its gut and the third higher up, charring its chest. The Centre runner dropped as a bolt clipped its scull, a shriek dying in its foul throat, with the second shot missing completely. The third creature endured both shots stoically, barely lowing its speed as both hit its centre of mass.

"Another round" yelled Pried, and the shooters tore the final survivor into a smoking heap of flesh. There was an eerie silence. The smell of charred flesh filled the noses of the waiting men.

Pried turned to his subordinate, "Bring Sunthlid forward, spilt to the flanks, inform him to sweep as we advance." Fawst left the line to relay this order, bring forward two squads, the scout division. Sunthlid was the stereotypical Scout leader, a game warden back home, he excelled at hunting prey, and could track game exceptionally well and, with a little training, human. His face betrayed his relative youth, a sergeant at the age of 24 standard, and brought a keen but knowledgeable insight to field tactical decisions. His men spilt to form Alpha and Beta, covering the flanks, advancing to protect the advancing forces.

Fawst resumed his position beside his colonel, waiting patiently as he observed his commander thinking. Pried broke the silence after a couple of seconds, "We must advance, take the initiative. We can clearly confirm hostiles, and so must harass them as we can, moving swiftly to the impact site. We have to risk a flank attack from Habs, we have to just rely on our scouts. Mobilise the tanks, relay these orders to the other officers".

As he turned to leave, he heard frenzied cries of "CONTACT!" from several men, turning on the balls of his feet to observe several of the bugs spilling out of the bottleneck of the entrance to the city centre. A curt bark of "Fire at will!" resulted in a wave of firepower hitting the 'Nids. After a few seconds the main turret of the Russ opened salvo, opening a void in the enemy ranks as a wave of heavy auto rounds drilled into the mass of evil.

The several had turned to dozens, as more flooded out, now from smaller side entrances. Sustained firepower stopped these numbers from advancing far; most were cut down shortly after appearing, corpses piling up as flesh and bone yielded to las and metal. Pried's slightly chubby face began to take a coating of sweat, as the numbers of foes did not lower despite the number lost "What is the estimated maximum number of 'Nids that could develop in this kind of time frame?" muttered Pried aloud

"We have no idea of their biology, I tried to find some approximation to a set of standard statistics for this kind of scum, yet apparently the most basic of facts can be wrong" replied Fawst, "There are some which can form from eggs, some develop from cocoons, some can develop in a man, and take from a week to a few hours to grow from a bacterium to a full-grown, tearing out of flesh"

"Emperor alive!" Pried's face betrayed his concern and the steadily increasing numbers did little to consol him as he resumed command, with the dead beginning to shield the living. This had caused the foe to progress a few metres, but this was not their only advancement, they seemed to be gaining a few feet every minute. However, there was some consolation in the vast amount of ground between them, at least a few hundred feet.

Pried's collar suddenly felt tight, his uniform of white with grey patches seemed coated in sweat. He gulped to clear his dry throat, "Bring an additional squad forward, move another two up onto the roofs' of near Habs, to provide more support. What are the scouts reporting, contact made?"

His com officer advanced, reporting the developing conflict "Streets away, Sir, similar events have taken place, Lieutenant Frinal had engaged with a sizable force, no casualties, and Lieutenant Wer has halted his mechanized forces, to form a defensive wall, and pour firepower upon the 'Nid forces. The scouts report contact, but with only a few number of foes. Shall I order them to pull back to closer to our perimeter?"

Pried nodded as he watched another batch of men take up position in what cover they could find. He saw on man hesitate, seeming to relax, an allowing his gun to lower. Pried feared the worst, and had it confirmed as the figure collapsed backward, a thin bonelike barb half a foot long jutting out of his chest. Two comrades pulled him back into cover, and a corpsman attempted to administer to him. Pried reserved judgment, he knew it was futile, he had heard warnings of foul toxins. "Conceal yourselves, use cover!" He ducked himself, drawing his auto pistol, and sabre of command. Issued to each Commissioned officer it was made of the finest steel, capable of beheading a man cleanly. He prayed to the Emperor above he would need the use of neither.

Durai reached the rooftop a panting, having covered the three staircases in a good time. Along with nineteen other men with him, he leaned over the precipice to view the square below. The edge below him contained the forces of his allies, he could see the Leman, along with about fifty or so men, all firing toward a flood of alien nightmares. He raised his auto-rifle, a meaty carbine with solid recoil, and the ability to drop an Ursul at fifty paces, quite a feat for a creature with a two inch thick skull. He opened fire on the ranks of the smaller beasts, unnerved that there could be so many of the little things. He had heard that there was a ratio of the bigger nasties to smaller things, and if there could be so many of these, his mind boggled at what else there was.

Twenty four rounds later and he ejected his clip, fished for another from a compartment in his tunic. As he did so he caught sight of Pried below him, bellowing orders. What a little shit, the useless eunuch should have found a more suitable location for a gunfight, the corridor behind limits how many guns can face the enemy, and more should be placed in the Habs, to make a wall of firepower. Or else that fucker Fawst should have placed defences further forward, to allow more men in. He rolled his eyes, but either way, there were only so many 'Nids that could fall in one piece of ship. He resumed firing upon the foe, attempting to pick out individuals rather than fire at the mass. He grinned an evil grin, killing in the name of the Emperor; one of life's sweet joys.

Commissar Satrap stood silently, monitoring the communications to and from the three fronts that had developed. He was approximately a quarter of a kilometre from each, waiting for a sign that one area was weakening significantly. The presence of the Colonel was a double edged sword, he could create confidence if he acted well, if he floundered then his men would match him. Lieutenant Wer had at his disposal many powerful machines, designed to chew up tanks. However, in tight streets a driver can panic, and cause injury to other vehicles, cause a jam, be overrun. And Frinal was always a weak commander. When the regiment was formed he was plucked up as a suitable candidate for officer training. He has the aptitude but no initiative, and lacked finesse, relying on talented subordinates. Satrap had advised against his promotion, but his time as a PDF base commander had shown his positives, and had offered little chance to reveal his weaknesses that Satrap could sense in him.

Satrap had been a decorated leader of men for nineteen years, a dozen wounds, four regiments, the last being Corvein 33rd. His status was shown in the total command of moral for the regiment, with two subordinates, commissar cadets, Oxus and Garlin. Both showed promise, Oxus by far the more, less bound by law than by common sense. Garlin had attempted to crack down upon the number of looted or unsanctioned weapons in the regiment, a move that could provoke little practical but resentment. Satrap had abandoned any attempts to regulate trophies collected, so long as they were operational, practical and not tainted it made little difference if the rifle belonged to a different, deceased comrade. If they thought it brought luck then he would be a fool to rob them of it.

He sighed, it seemed no matter how he played it he would make the wrong choice. Still, it was likely that all three locations would need support, he arbitrarily assigned Oxus to Pried's men, Garlin to Wer and prepared to advance to Frinal himself. He commandeered an idling squad to each man, and one for himself, finding Sergeant Quox as the most reliable man in the immediate area. As a force he offered less firepower than pure will and motivation, he steeled himself for what the advance may hold, racking his bolt pistol and making his chainsword unsheathed.

Carrack leaned on the chimera, feeling the grinding movements familiar and reassuring. Nine men were located on the outside, with a further ten inside. He had drawn the second rotation, next time he would feel the reassurance of lurking inside the steel shield. He tried to make light chatter with the four men on his side of the vehicle, but it was strained and unnatural, the idle talk of those feeling deaths gaze. It was evident in the radio feedback of the conflicts ahead. Apparently the roads were too narrow to exploit the size of the army. Death however seemed at its truest, unveiled by the presence of only nine men on the hull. The tenth had been robbed of his life just fifty five days previous, a chance shot by a cultist lurking in the victory celebration parade. He let twelve shots, nine hitting, four men wounded, two dead, one was Birl. The five of them had signed up together, from that small little village to the stars, Carrack, Birl, Choi, Nerviez and Marcid. Now there were four. He was not struck by deaths appearance; he had lost several so far, in this regiment. But this was the first time it was a person he really knew, a long term figure in life. He fidgeted with his las pistol, running the drill to ensure it was fit for use, muttering the litany of cleanliness to himself, calming himself to an equal yet opposite amount that Marcid seemed to grow irritated. The mood was sombre, the silence crushing. The prospect of death now seemed to hold some real, relevant threat. It seemed to have sobered Choi from his happy-go-lucky banter, drawn Nerviez inward, his face clouded over with no apparent recognition of his comrades. It had caused Marcid to grow more irritable, snapping for no reason.

The Chimera jolted, throwing his thoughts into disorder. Carrack wondered what effect it must have had to himself. Made him more damn thoughtful and over analytical he considered, letting out a little smile. Still, he knew he must focus on the battle ahead, no room for error or empty heads. An empty mind is a good target in the field, like the old Sarge said.

A few clicks away, to the south, the PDF barracks, which stood empty a few days ago, were a hive of activity. Two hundred men had been assigned to hold it as it had been designated as the rally point in the case of any problems in the city. A dozen Medica prepped the building, using the adequate facilities there, but expanding it to take into consideration the causalities of war most likely including civilians. Dispenser Rei nodded as he examined the main hall, now OR1. It seemed to be satisfactory for war; they were ready for anything, short of the fury of a god! He chuckled then checked himself; the thought was touching on heresy!

Pried began to calm, the waves of the foe were abating, and the only bigger Bugs were a band of vicious looking things, two metres tall with giant hooked and serrated blades, and upper limbs fused to a long gun-like growth. They had presented some problems, but a combination of good suppressive fire, a well aimed missile and firing discipline insured that only one man was hit. But the damage was horrific, acids corroding flesh, leaving the muscle tissue held limply to bone leaving Blurjo most probably dying, or at least never walking again. But still, onward to glory, he held a rallying speech to the men, ordering barricades to be collected, and men ready to advance. But as he turned, he nearly collapsed, the ground trembling underfoot, and a loud sound, as if the earth was stressing and buckling.

Durai dropped to the ground as the building practically shook, seeming to come loose of its foundations. Before his eyes a crack appeared from the lip of the wall across to the floor, and for a few metres away from him. "Oh sweet Emperor of our souls, don't let me die like this". He stood, trying to place as little pressure on the floor as he could, walking to the edge to observe the square.

Carrack nearly slid off the Chimera, Choi was less lucky, hitting the ground hard. The traffic halted as drivers felt unsure of how safe the road was to progress.

Satrap muttered curses to himself, this was exactly what was needed to motivate the men, the feeling that the city itself may just collapse underneath them. The sergeant Quox seemed spooked. However a few thinly veiled words of anger motivated him, and thus his men. He double timed the men, marching to the conflict, to push the advance forward.

Medical supplies dropped from the shelving, books fell from the bookcases and in general a huge amount of chaos fell in a very short period of time. Rei straightened himself up, dusting himself off. "What in the name of all that is holy was that?"

His orderlies attempted to find some sanity in the confusion, but they were all silenced by a sound, a screech that chilled their very core. It was the predatory sound of something foul, something angry, and something most definitely hunting.


End file.
